Fragmented but in a single tile, the Nepali speaking community of India is held together by a lone constant: the language. Therefore, discussing its nature seems imperative. Lustre of loan words and the grander meanings they convey are certainly desirable, but to what extent should the language lose itself, and if the language is destined to lose itself completely, must it go to the ruins of the exact diachrony to find itself? Before discussing this (in brief, we want feedback to further this conversation), the following editorial (1964) in Diyalo by Indra Bahadur Rai should be read as reference for the issue. It has been translated from ‘संस्कृतनिष्ट औ झर्रो नेपालीको प्रश्न’. While the translation may not do justice to writer, we have tried to be as accurate as possible, to the best of our capabilities. The irony of the language in which this is being written is apparent to us, but we want these discussions to reach the uninitiated– the largely bilingual newer generation whose ability to read Devanagiri pales in comparison to the Roman alternative.

The question of Sanskrit-heavy and Pure Nepali

The language used by a writer for any literature or composition depends on the subject-matter. More importantly, it depends on the ideas and feelings that the writer wants to convey through the medium of a subject. Along with the inherent emotions and ideas, the language is also simultaneously constructed, and is the manner in which it should be constructed. And for this reason, a writer seeking requirements for creation only considers bringing out the strength of writing and the ability to express in a language. The distinction of whether the language leans towards Sanskrit-heavy or pure Nepali isn’t taken into consideration. Devkota utilizes a simple and easy language in ‘Muna Madan’, it is desired by the spirit inherent within the composition. Later in ‘Shakuntal’, the same Devkota utilizes raw Sanskrit or conjunctions in plurality, Devkota says that such compositions require such language. Endeavouring to constrain the language of a writer due to prevailing level of education within a country or community amounts to putting literature to the test of practicality, and that is not fair. A writer wants philosophies, perspectives, thoughts and emotions ingrained within to take the form of a language that doesn’t deviate from the aforementioned, that is it, whether it is the use of a Sanskrit word or a derivation is of no interest to the writer.

Writers who subscribe to the Utilitarian thought, look for a language that is simple and intuitive while holistically analysing the larger needs of society; and they do a good deed: be it any issue, they seek to use a simple language and are able to do so. Otherwise, it would be like saying those who don’t know grand words are incapable of grand thoughts.

But the easy language that they seek is also not the pure language that is being discussed. Simple language and pure language are not the same. Simple language is related to everyday use and common parlance, even if hybridised or corrupted, it is what we are accustomed to speaking and hearing, that is what we consider simple. Pure language is related to the origin of lineage and diachrony of the language. In basic English, words that are in common use and those that are fairly simple remain, but words that owe their origin to Greek-Latin are also prevalent. William Barnes had tried to use pure English (look at his Outline of English Speech-craft, 1878), if he had his way and only Anglo-Saxon words remained– democracy would be ‘folkdom’, butler would be ‘winethane’, perambulator would be ‘push wainling’, and in English grammar, degrees of comparison would be ‘pitches of suchness’.

Analysing the diachrony of the pure Nepali language, and defining it, becomes an arduous task: when we closely analyse the origin of the language which comes from Prakrit or derivations, only that form of language remains pure. Origin of Nepali seems to come– from Shauraseni, from Maghadi or from Khas. Again, when we study the words which we have finalised as ‘pure’, they are found in neighbouring languages like Maithili, Rajasthani, Awadhi and Bhojpuri, our foundations for the pureness slips. Pureness of other languages are subject to same phenomenon when words hybridize and spread over time. Seeing that the possibility of expelling all non-Nepali words from the language is unwise and probably impossible, the advocates of a pure language have compromised on only adopting and using words for which there are no counterparts in Nepali. The flood of responses and oppositions– cumulating in a Pure-Nepali movement and uprising– directed towards those who wholly utilized Hindi when writing in Nepali, has now receded. The need of this age is neither complicated Sanskrit nor is it a pure language, what is required is a Nepali that is easy and practical which replicates the emotions of this age with a little bit of easy Sanskrit remaining. Practise of this has increased in functional communication, speeches and newspapers. But in the creative endeavour of literature, this rule-of-intuition is inapplicable. A writer sees the emotion and the idea, when those are grasped and put forth, the language becoming complex, Pure or simple is not the accountability the writer. If the writer is granted the liberty of writing freely, the writer will raise the clout and status of the language, and will set a new standard of writing and communicating for the sake of upcoming generations. It will also be the utmost service to the language.

Diyalo
Year 5, Bough 20, October 1964

Indra Bahadur Rai may have made a compelling argument for the creative process and the larger sphere of literature, but the article (editorial) fails to address the discipline of ‘conscious choice’ and the politics associated with those choices. Retreating a bit to the question of the language losing itself, it isn’t inherently a tragedy if the language were to do so, organically or artificially. An actual tragedy would unfold if the language were to go down the same path in order find itself. No more should the community look at itself as ‘paari‘, no more is the community under the shackles of a homogeneous social experiment. While Rai may have argued for Sanskrit as a tool of the creative process, it now seems to have become a syllable flexing event with the readers compelled to use spokensanskrit.org over any standard Nepali dictionary.

Here is a proposition for the writers: if you desire to flex and write obscure words, why not consciously use words that will surely be forgotten after this generation, words which stem from languages we failed to inherit. Let the words from various languages we have (Gurung, Kirat, Newar, Tamang, Thami, Tibetan, Sherpa and Yolmo to name a few) be a domain of the public rather than a monopoly of none. Standardize if you must to build a new dictionary and repository– the foundation for a ‘mukta Nepali’ (pun intended). Must we really be shackled to Sanskrit– a reminder of Brahmanism and oppression– when we have roots deeper and diverse? You obsess over eliminating the influence of Hindi but are blind to the politics of the Hindi heartland and its language. If you don’t change your course, Nepali is bound to meet Hindi at Allahabad Prayagraj.

Please send in your feedback at thekakucontact@gmail.com

Indra Bahadur Rai’s editorial has been translated with relevant permissions.